Forgotten One
by MistressKade
Summary: Another prophecy made by Sybil Trelaney predicts the end of the Dark Lord once again. But, Harry's not the one to kill him! A sixteen year old secret is brought into the light, and no one is prepared for the results. *not HP/SS; see A/N in ch.1*
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** As much as I wish it were true, I do not in fact own anything dealing with the Harry Potter empire. Those rights belong to JK Rowling, Scholastic Books, as well as others that I can't seem to remember at the moment. Please, don't waste your time attempting to sue me; I am a high school student, you'd get jack.

**Summary:** Another prophecy made by Sybil Trelaney predicts the end of the Dark Lord once again. But, Harry's not the one to kill him! A sixteen year old secret is brought into the light, and no one is prepared for what happens next.

**Pairings:** SS/OC, HP/DM, SB/RL, HG/PP.

**Authors Note:** This fanfiction will omit the events of Book 6 & 7 of the Harry Potter series, therefore, **THIS FANFIC IS NOT CANON! **Please, do not complain to me about this, it's how I want the story to be, and since I am a fanfiction writer, I can do whatever I want with this story. Please, give the story a chance! I doubt you will regret it, since I have a totally amazing plot in the works. Now, there will be an original female character brought into the story that will have a significant role, but PLEASE, just give me a chance to develop it before you through it away. Now, technically, this is my first fanfiction, but I feel as though I can deliver my intended plot, so please bare with me. I plan to update at a minimum of once a week, and reviews would be lovely, but not necessary. I will of course welcome any critic, as long as you're not super mean about it.

Chapter One

The burst of fire from the fireplace woke up Molly Weasley from her bed in the middle of the night. A quick glance to the clock proved it was 2:37am, and her glance to the other side of the bed suggested it was her husband. She sighed softly; Arthur had been working so hard as of late, with the Dark Lord working at full force and his Death Eaters causing problems all over Europe. She sat up, swung her legs over the end of the bed and slipped her feet into her faded fuzzy pink slippers, before grabbing her night robe and making her way down to greet her husband. On her way down the stairs, she heard a conversation going on; Arthur wasn't alone. She walked down the rest of the way, and through the kitchen, to get to the living room, where Arthur was having an apparent argument with none other then Albus Dumbledore.

"You don't even know the validity of this yet, Albus! I won't have you putting Harry through that if it doesn't check out!"

"Arthur, I understand your concern, but it still needs to be done." the Headmaster replied, removing his glasses and massaging the bridge of his nose briefly. "I wish I had known before. I wish none of this ever had to happen. But think of what this could mean, Arthur. Harry is the only one who can locate Voldemort's lair; I need his help to check the validity of the claim."

Molly paused, leaning against the door frame. The fact that Albus hadn't noticed she was in the room yet was very disconcerting; he must be exhausted. She took in his appearance: his dirty, wrinkled robes, mangled hair, and tired eyes. The poor man obviously hasn't slept in what looked like days. This war was aging him quickly, and the way it was going, she wasn't entirely sure he would live to see the end of it. The entire Wizarding World put Albus Dumbledore on another level; really, he was only human, and humans can only handle so much.

"Don't you think I understand that Albus! I want to believe that this war is over just as much as everyone else. But honestly, what if your informant is wrong? Then you have led Harry to his death, and I won't allow that!"

"What's going on Arthur?" Molly said, making her presence know as she made her way over to her husband, her hand taking his.

"Molly, what are you doing up?" he asked, turning to face his wife, smiling a very forced smile.

"The floo. I had really just gotten to sleep, it's no trouble. Please, what's wrong?" she asked, before turning to Albus. "What's going on?"

Albus sighed, his face grave. "I have found from a reliable source that the Dark Lord is dead, killed in his own lair. I have already asserted that this source is reliable; however, I do not know how to get to his lair, only Harry can do that. I need his help."

Molly's eyes widened considerably. She turned to her husband, who was staring at Dumbledore, before turning her attention back to the elder wizard.

"Who is this source then, Albus? If you really think this is legitimate, then who is your source?" Arthur asked. Molly could tell by his expression and posture he was definitely loosing the inner struggle of trying to deny the significance of this claim. She rubbed her thumb along the back of his hand in a soothing manner, to remind him of her presence. He gripped her hand tightly, as if to communicate his inner anxiety. She smiled softly to herself, her focus now completely on Albus.

"Sybil." he said simply.

"You're kidding, right? The woman's a crackpot! You want me to risk Harry's safety because of what that crazy woman may have seen? I won't do that! That boy has become a member of this family, and as such, he won't be subjected to harm because of some unbalanced woman's perceived "vision"."

"Arthur, I understand your position, but I assure you, while Sybil may not be as powerful as other psychics, both of her previous visions have been legitimate. I saw her vision through her penseive and evaluated the credibility of it. Please Arthur, you must understand the significance of this breakthrough. The Dark Lord could be dead. The war could be over. Everyone could be safe again; your children could be safe now."

Arthur sighed, his head rolling forward in defeat. Molly leaded up and kissed him lightly on the cheek, before detaching herself from her husband.

"I'll go get Harry." she said.

Dumbledore smiled at her. "Thank you, Molly."

Molly made her way back through the living room and entered into the kitchen before turning to go up the stairs.

The Dark Lord was potentially dead. The fear, anxiety, and death was potentially over. Her children could be safe. Harry could be saved from facing the Dark Lord. Somehow, it just seemed too incredible to wrap her mind around. She made her way up the second flight up stairs to her youngest son's room. She swallowed, took a deep breath, and opened the door quietly. It really wasn't necessary though; Ronald was the definition of a heavy sleeper. She made her way over to Harry's bed, and sat down lightly on the side.

"Harry, sweetheart. You need to wake up." Harry mumbled something unintelligible into his pillow. Molly smiled, and touched his shoulder, lightly shaking him. "Harry, you need to wake up now. Professor Dumbledore needs to speak with you right away."

Harry turned his head, bleary eyes focusing on Molly.

"Professor Dumbledore needs to speak with you Harry. It's very important." she repeated. She got up from off his bed as Harry sat up, stretching his arms over his head and rubbing his eyes before getting off the bed and moving to leave the room, Molly following behind him, as he made his way down the stairs and into the living room.

"You wanted to see me Professor?" Harry asked, his tired eyes focusing on the headmaster.

"Harry," Dumbledore started, moving towards the boy, "I need your help. I need you to take me to Voldemort's lair."

Harry's eyes widened, his tiredness suddenly completely gone.

"You want me to do _what_?" he asked with obvious disbelief. He didn't know where Voldemort's lair was. If he did, he would have confronted and killed the bastard already. He looked at Dumbledore again, and noticed that the elder wizard's gaze had shifted to the wall behind Harry; realization hit him hard.

The connection; the connection between himself and Voldemort would allow Harry to locate him. He was a little pissed at himself for not recognizing it sooner; it made perfect sense. And Dumbledore had conveniently forgotten to mention that to him. Harry glared at Dumbledore.

"Harry, please don't be mad. I didn't mention it because I knew you would act impulsively; it wouldn't do any good if you got yourself killed."

"Well, what the fuck do you think is going to happen when I confront Voldemort?" Harry asked, his fists clenching in anger.

"Harry! Language!" Molly said from the doorway.

"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley." he mumbled, still glaring vehemently at Dumbledore.

"Harry, Professor Trelawney had a vision. I believe it to be true, but I need to be sure. I need you to take me to Voldemort lair in order to confirm it."

"What do you need to confirm?" he asked, taking a deep breath in order to restrain his anger. He would have time later to be pissed at the headmaster. Right now however, it seemed that whatever Dumbledore had to say was important, so he begrudging gave the headmaster his attention again.

"Professor Trelawney had a vision that…that Voldemort was dead. I need your help to confirm it." Dumbledore said, his tired eyes staring intently at Harry.

It felt as though everything was moving in slow motion at that point. Harry couldn't focus on anything; everything had suddenly become blurry. It could be over. It could all be over. He wouldn't have to kill Voldemort. He could have his life back. He wouldn't have to die. He wouldn't have to die.

"Harry? Harry, are you listening to me? Harry?" Arthur shook him slightly.

"How do I locate his lair?" Harry asked, his voice oddly calm, his face vacant. Molly and Arthur exchanged worried glances. Dumbledore smiled slightly.

"It shouldn't be hard, Harry. You just need to focus. You need to open the connection up between you and Voldemort."

"But…if he's dead, how can I do that?" Harry asked.

"You just need to focus on him; everything he's done, who he is, what he is. Allow your mind to free itself, and you will be able to find him." Harry still didn't understand how the connection would work if Voldemort was really dead, but Dumbledore seemed to know what he was talking about, so he relied on the elder wizard's expertise and sat down on the sofa.

"Molly, do you think you could get Harry a cup of tea to help him relax?" Dumbledore asked, smiling at her.

"I'm fine, Professor. Really." Harry said, but Molly was already in the kitchen fixing him some tea, and most likely something to go down with it. 'Damn, she's fast.' he thought to himself.

Harry got himself situated on the sofa, pulling his legs up under him as he grabbed a pillow and hugged it to his chest.

'_It could all be over..._'

Harry just couldn't pull that thought from his mind. He felt overwhelmed by the severity of it all. Harry honestly never believed he would win in a battle against Voldemort. He clearly stood no chance. After his interaction with the Dark Lord in the grave yard during his fourth year, and the Department of Mysteries in his fifth, he knew for a fact that he stood no chance. Voldemort was on a different level; a level that surpassed himself, any common witch or wizard, even Dumbledore. Voldemort had managed to create a league of his own, and no one stood a chance of defeating him. So, if this ended up checking out, Harry knew he personally wouldn't ever want to meet the individual capable of that level of power.

Mr. Weasley and Dumbledore had started talking again in hushed voices, though if he tried he could hear everything they said; he just didn't give a damn at the moment. Sighing softly, he attempted to stop the rampaging thoughts inside his head and the overwhelming emotions coursing through his body. He really needed to focus.

"Harry, dear, I brought you some tea and a sugar cookie." Harry looked up at Mrs. Weasley and smiled, taking the tea from her.

"I'm not very hungry right now, Mrs. Weasley." He said, sipping the tea in small bursts; it was really hot.

"Alright dear. All you have to do is ask if you need something."

"I know that, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you." Harry continued to sip at his tea, trying without real success to clear his head. He finished his tea, and placed the cup on the end table, before drawing himself back up into his previous position. The tea helped a little. Just focus. All he had to do was focus for a few minutes.

Harry closed his eyes. The conversation going on near him seemed to disappear. He immediately thought of Voldemort. He thought of the reptilian man that emerged from the cauldron in the grave yard. He thought of the teenage Tom Riddle. He thought of the nightmares he had had about the torture sessions and murders he had committed, even those who had committed torture and murder in his name. He thought of his mothers scream, when Voldemort killed her 16 years ago; his first memory. He thought of Sirius, and his face as he fell behind the veil…

He suddenly felt very ill. It seemed as though his memory was turning black; black, almost like a dark cloud moving in front of his eyes. And then he felt pain. An immeasurable amount of pain, coursing through his veins; an agony ten times worse then the Cruciatus Curse. Before he could stop himself, he let out a scream. He was vaguely away that he had fallen off the couch, but nothing seemed real. Only an unbelievable amount of pain; his skin felt like it was burning, his eyes being ripped out, his body taking a terrible beating. And then, through the bleary eyes of another, he fell to the floor, a floor littered with blood. A dirty floor that he had seen before. He tried to focus through the pain, tried to look to see where he was, and why it looked familiar. He knew it was obvious, an answer he should know; he had seen this place so many times before. Why couldn't he remember? The pain was affecting his comprehension of everything. Harry felt himself quickly loosing his grip on reality.

Then suddenly, as quickly as it had come, the pain was seeming to ebb away. His eyes started to cloud again; the pain receding bit by bit. He couldn't stop himself from coughing however, he suddenly felt like he might be choking, so he shut his eyes briefly; he honestly didn't understand when they had opened.

When Harry opened his eyes again, he was on his back on the floor of the Weasley's house, with Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley bent over him, and Mrs. Weasley applying a damp cloth to his forward. Only then did he realize how hot he felt.

He shut his eyes again briefly, attempting to catch his breath. The pain was mostly gone now, but his muscles ached, and his eyes still burned. He tried to catch his breath, his chest heaving in an attempt to regulate his body once again. Everything had just felt so real…

"Harry? Harry, are you alright, m'boy?" He heard Dumbledore ask him.

"Read my mind. Tell me where that is. I can't remember…" His words came out in breathy rasps, but he knew that the elder wizard had heard him, because he felt that slight tickle that one feels when their mind is being invaded.

"That's Riddle Manor. But, the Ministry raided that place months ago, there was no one there." Dumbledore said.

"Well then, clearly he relocated back. Why wasn't someone from the Ministry watching the manor?" Arthur asked, in a clearly peeved tone. Harry honestly didn't give a damn at the moment.

"People were suppose to be watching it. Then again, with all the corruption within the Ministry, it's really no surprise." Dumbledore said, his voice strained. Harry could tell by his tone that Dumbledore was trying to suppress his anger; Mr. Weasley was already on edge, and had been on edge, and he himself felt peeved at the Ministry's clear fuck up. 'But then again, that is what they do best: fuck-up,' he thought to himself rather bitterly.

Once he had his breathing under control, Harry moved himself gingerly to a sitting position before moving himself back onto the couch. Mrs. Weasley handed him another cup of tea.

"I think I'll take that cookie now, Mrs. Weasley." Harry said, looking up at her. This time, he didn't even attempt a smile. She nodded at him, and rushed into the kitchen to grab him a cookie. Mr. Weasley and Dumbledore had stopped their conversation, and were now looking at him intently.

"Harry, thank you very much for your help. Now, I need you to get yourself together, then go upstairs and change and get your wand." Dumbledore said. Arthur moved to the couch, and took the place next to Harry. He put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Harry swallowed a large gulp of tea and nodded his understanding. His blood and Voldemort's were linked; Dumbledore needed him to get past any lingering wards that may still be in place around the house.

"Here you are Harry." Mrs. Weasley said, sitting a plate of cookies on his lap. "You never did eat any desert tonight, and you hardly touched your dinner. Eat up." Harry grabbed a cookie off the top without even looking at it and nibbled on it, his eyes straying to the empty fireplace, and successfully tuning out the conversation going on around him once again. He just focused on getting some food in his system. He was definitely going to need his energy. Even if Voldemort was dead, like the scene he had just witnessed could have proved, he still needed energy; it wouldn't be good if he passed out on Dumbledore when they got to the Manor.

But all that blood on the floor…it couldn't possibly all have been from just Voldemort; there was just too much of it. So that would entail that someone else had bled too. But from the amount of blood, it looked like multiple people had been killed. Then again, he didn't exactly know very much about blood, so it could have all come from one person. Voldemort wasn't very human, after all.

Harry finished three sugar cookies and his tea before he put the plate down on the spot on couch Mr. Weasley had vacated, and the empty cup on the side table, before getting up off the couch; he slipped out of the living room without the others noticing; or rather, choosing not to notice. He quickly made his way up the two flights of stairs and crept back into his room. He looked at the clock on Ron's side of the bed; 3:52am. Apparently that vision he had lasted longer then he thought...He couldn't believe that just an hour ago he had been sleeping, actually sleeping, with the thought of impending doom in the back of his addled mind. Now, there was a very good chance that Voldemort was dead, and he, Harry, wouldn't have to kill Voldemort; or the more obvious outcome: Harry fights, and dies a horrible, torturous death.

He quickly changing into a baggy black t-shirt and jeans, slipped on a pair of socks, then rummaged around for his shoes before slipping them on and lacing them up. He grabbed his wand off the nightstand and navigated his way back down the stairs to the living room.

"Ok, I'm ready." This seemed to stop the conversation abruptly. Mrs. Weasley ran over to him, and tugged him into a fierce hug before she released him and kissed him on the forehead.

"You be safe now. Don't do anything stupid." Harry smiled a small, but genuine, smile.

"Don't worry Mrs. Weasley. I'm sure I'll just be seeing a dead body," he said. "Wouldn't be the first time." he added bitterly. He walked over to Dumbledore. "Let's get this over with."

As Harry walked away, Molly couldn't contain herself anymore; she started crying. What if Voldemort wasn't dead, and this was a trap for Harry. She didn't want him to leave. She wanted him to stay here, nice and safe in her house. She wanted to stuff him full of cookies so he wouldn't look at thin as he did. She wanted to hug him and never let him go; to tell him she loved him, and that he would always have a place here.

"Please take my arm Harry, and hold on tight." Dumbledore said. He knew how much Harry hated apparating, but there wasn't any other choice. Harry took hold of his arm, and they were gone.

Molly bursts into full on sobs. Arthur made his way across the room to his wife before enveloping her in a loving embrace, stroking her hair as she sobbed uncontrollably into his chest.

"Don't worry, Molly. He will come back perfectly fine. Albus would never allow anything to happen to him. He will come back. He will come back."

--

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please, if you have the time, I would really appreciate a review of some kind. Have a happy day!

--Kade--


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Harry Potter. Unfortunately. Oh well.

Author's Note: Sorry for the few day delay, but I've had finals and stuff. But, since school is officially out, I am set to go. I should have the next chapter up in a few days.

Thanks: A special thanks to FromTheLivingRoom, my first ever reviewer! I really appreciate it! And thank you the people who put this story on Alert! I really appreciate the validation! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I hope you have a fabulous day!

--

Chapter Two

Harry closed his eyes, attempting to diffuse the nauseating feeling that always came with apparating. He tightened his grip on the headmaster as he felt the world spiraling back into parallel around him. Vaguely, he noticed the feeling of ground beneath his worn-in shoes; however, he made no attempt to refocus his attention on the world around him.

"Harry? Are you alright?" Harry internally sighed.

"Give me a minute, Professor."

"Of course, Harry." He heard the Headmaster making general small talk, mostly on apparating and about how some wizards get used to it quicker then others. Harry wasn't listening too hard, he was focusing primarily on his breathing, and attempting to regulate his body once again. It wasn't just the apparating either, and Harry knew it. He was also pretty sure Dumbledore knew it too, the way the old man was choosing to ignore his inner battle, considering it was blatantly obvious to anyone who chose to look closely enough.

This was a big fucking deal, even if he was downplaying it. Either Voldemort was dead, or Harry would be when he stepped into that house. He didn't want to open his eyes; while is eyes remained closed, he could pretend he was dreaming. Not that dreaming was any better then real life; to the contrary, it was normally a lot worse. But he could recognize the difference between his dreams and real life occurrences. He did however stop to consider that he couldn't remember his dreams from tonight, but couldn't bring himself to get excited over that prospect. Nothing was every easy or simple in his life, and any happiness or hope would quickly be devoured by something corrupt, or evil. It was a reoccurring pattern with Harry, ever since he stepped into the Wizarding World; while he loved magic, and the magical world, Harry just felt as though he didn't belong here. He had lost so much, and sometimes he felt like what he gained wasn't worth it in the end…the end…

Harry visibly shook himself from his train of thought, and opened his eyes quickly to dissolve any more suicidal thoughts from being entertained in his mind. Focusing his blurry vision to precision, Harry's eyes widened considerably as the scene before him brought back harsh memories.

"Kill the spare!"

A bright light.

"No!"

Dead eyes tilted back.

"No."

"No…no…no…no."

"Harry!" He felt a violent shake through his body; a blow by Dumbledore to get his attention.

Dumbledore.

"Harry, we should get going now." He didn't even notice until he tried to move that he was on his knees. Cedric wasn't there. Wormtail wasn't there. Voldemort wasn't…What was wrong with him? Harry tried to focus his spiraling thoughts, fighting against the overwhelming sense of panic threatening to take his mind. Heaving himself up in an aggressive manner, he quickly forced his legs to support him, and took off across the grave yard. He had no idea where he was going, but his legs seemed to know where to go. Vaguely, he could hear Dumbledore moving in rapid fashion behind him.

Somehow, he knew where he was going. He felt the familiar sensation through his body, one that he knew from his dreams. While he himself had only been in this grave yard once in person, he had been here hundreds of times before. Marching over the graves beneath his feet, Harry plowed through the graveyard in rapid fashion, breaking out into a near jog as the manor came into view. Riddle Manor.

"Harry, slow down!" Dumbledore was calling to him, so Harry unwillingly forced himself to keep a slower pace, allowing his elder companion to keep up with him.

The air grew more tense the closer they came to the manor, and Harry could already feel massive adrenaline pumping through his veins. Dumbledore stopped his attempt at speech, since Harry didn't seem to be paying him any sort of attention.

Harry was aware of how there was no pain attributed to his scar at all. Not wishing to get his hopes up, he attempted to regulate his near haggard breathing at the severity of his thought process. In the past, whenever Harry had been particularly close to Voldemort, as now was the case, he felt at the minimum a prickle, or pain of some sorts. The fact that he felt nothing excited him, to the point that Dumbledore had to ask him to slow his pace yet again.

As they approached the gates, Dumbledore pointed his wand at them, uttering something Harry couldn't detect, under his breath. He nodded in affirmation before turning to Harry.

"We can pass through, but I need to be holding onto you as we do so, and you must walk through first, Harry. The wards are considerably weaken, but still somewhat dangerous. Once we are both sufficiently into the grounds, all should be well," Dumbledore said to him, taking hold of his arm and propelling the dark haired teen forward. Tentatively pressing his hand to the run down gate, Harry felt a light tickling sensation, like a cat rubbing against bare shin. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself past his own trepidations and moved through the vortex onto the property. His wand at the ready, he kept his pace slow and even as he officially entered the grounds, feeling Dumbledore's hand slip from his arm.

"See, it's fine now." Dumbledore said, offering him a small smile. While Harry appreciated he was trying to make less of the situation, now really wasn't the time. Without bothering to voice the rising concerns he felt threatening to release themselves, Harry tightened his grip on his wand and quickened his pace.

Making his way up the walk, Harry couldn't help but feel like he was a walking target. Even if what Professor Trelawney saw, even if Dumbledore believed her, even if Harry believed what he saw, the bottom line was that Voldemort had fooled them all before, and this could easily be another elaborate scheme to fulfill the prophecy.

The gravel drive crunched underfoot as they made their way towards the shabby, decrepit manor. Flaming torches were burning at intervals, lighting their path to the entrance. As they approached closer, Harry immediately noticed damage. Scorch marks covered the surroundings of the windows, which had been blown out rather unceremoniously by what could only be described as a severe internal explosion. Run down by under use and mismanage, the manor, which once was probably a stately structure, now had darken with age. It was a rather sorry sight; hardly something to be considered as a stronghold for the forces of evil, in Harry's opinion.

With tentative steps, the two wizards rose up the front few stairs to the entrance door. With a deep, calming breath, Harry found himself pushing the ancient door open, forcing it slightly. A loud creaking sound was heard as the door gave and swung back, hitting the far wall with power, before ricocheting back lightly. Pushing past him, Dumbledore moved to take the lead; if this was a trap set up for Harry, as unlikely as he felt it was, he wasn't going to risk Harry's life more then he already had by bringing him here.

Making their way through the rough, abused foyer, attired with drab walls, worn-through rugs, and bruised antique furniture, Harry couldn't help the feeling of unease that was now assaulting his mind; it seemed to be building with each passing moment. Forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand, Harry followed quickly behind Dumbledore, who had fastened his pace as they exited the entrance hall and continued through to the other side of the door.

Stepping into a formal, but misused, living room, Dumbledore turned to Harry. Flashing to look at the two doors, Harry instinctively pointed to the one on the left, and the pair followed through with this pattern, making their way through the manor at a quick and efficient pace.

As they made their way through the manor, a smell he was far to familiar with focused on his senses, causing him to pause. Swallowing hard, he turned large eyes to Dumbledore as his heartbeat quickened. The hallway they were standing in had only one door at the far end, but even from the distance both wizards were aware of the copper smell of blood littering the area. Eyes trained on the door, Harry bypassed Dumbledore and took off in quick strides, ignoring the older man's pleas for him to let him go first.

Pushing the door open, the site before him nearly caused him to pass out. His eyes widened, and he slowly slid to his knees, causally noticing how Dumbledore had came up behind him. Hearing the elder wizard inhaling a sharp breath, Harry knew his eyes weren't deceiving him. He felt the confines of his stomach shrinking, and he knew he was going to be sick. Heaving up the remainder of his stomach contents, Harry felt his limbs giving out on him, and struggled to retake control.

The room they had entered was littered with bodies, blood carpeting the ground. There must have been over a hundred bodies. The walls were blackened, like from an explosion, and upon looking at the windows, they were the same ones that had been broken when they were entering the manor from the outside. The room was large, and most likely the general meeting room for Voldemort's death eaters.

Managing to get himself together, Harry rose from his place on the floor, and quickly magicked away the sickness from his mouth. Breathing heavily, Harry turned to Dumbledore, who seemed to be surveying the damage.

"Do you think Voldemort did this, Professor." he asked, moving to stand closer to the older wizard. Dumbledore sighed.

"I don't think so, Harry. I really don't think so." He shook his head, almost as if to turn the image from his mind. While Dumbledore recognized Voldemort's insanity, he would never kill his entire inner circle at once. Even while he attended Hogwarts, Tom Riddle was the type of person who needed to be surrounded by people at all times. While he didn't care at all about his Death Eaters, he only would have done something like this if they had all simultaneously betrayed him, and Dumbledore severely doubted that had happened here. As much as the idea scared him, he knew that someone else had committed these murders.

Maneuvering through the sea of blood and bodies, the pair made it to the door on the other side. This time, Harry allowed Dumbledore to lead without question or objection. If the next room was anything like this one, he honestly wanted no part in viewing it first; some warning would be nice. He could feel the blood beneath his feet at it soaked into his worn sneakers, and it left a sickening feeling curling in his stomach. He saw Dumbledore fiddle with the handle and push the door open. He also distinctly heard a sharp intake of breath.

"Professor?" Harry really hoped this room wasn't like the other one. He noticed suddenly that Dumbledore's attention was no longer focused on him. Following the other wizard into the room, Harry stopped in his tracks at the body on the floor. Voldemort's body. Voldemort's body, laid in awkward positioning, with his open eyes tilted toward the ceiling. His reptilian body was extremely pale, more so then before, and there was blood everywhere. Everywhere. He noticed how Voldemort's wand was a few feet from his body, in the small, decrepit room. Almost in slow motion, Harry realized Dumbledore had moved from the body, to something else in the room. Turning his head, his eyes widened at the sight presented to him.

Dumbledore was slowly approaching...a girl? A tangle of limbs shoved into the corner, she was presented as a pathetic sight. From the rise and fall of her petite chest, Harry knew she was alive, although the dull, dead way her eyes were focused on the lifeless body of the Dark Lord would hold no testimony of that. Her legs pressed to her chest, her arms circling them, she sat silent and staring, as if she didn't realize they had entered the room. Her body was covered in dirt and caked in blood, her hair matted, and the little clothing she had was dark with stains. What was she doing, here of all places? Why wasn't she dead like the others? Could she...could she have been the one to do all this?

Dumbledore approached the girl slowly, with trepidation. Though he didn't wish to jump to any conclusions, she was the only person alive in this place. Retracting his wand, Dumbledore examined her, and determined her magic was nearly completely drained, and she had a number of broken bones and bruises, under all the blood. And from what his brief scan had proven, she had been abused for a long, long time; he did however determine she was not an immediate threat. Knowing to tread lightly in situations like this, Dumbledore turned to Harry.

"I need to call the Ministry, and I would like it if you would wait with our...friend here, alright, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, his voice unusually calm for the tense situation they were in.

"Of course, Professor," Harry said, moving towards the girl slowly. Kneeing down in front of her, and effectively blocking her view of the body, Harry noticed her blank, yet vivid green eyes, and couldn't help but thinking how much they looked like his own.

"My name's Harry. Would you mind telling me what your name is?" he asked softly, not wanting to scare her. Her eyes never strayed from the spot where the body of the Dark Lord lay. It was as if she were staring straight through Harry, and, while it unnerved him a little, he could understand she was obviously in shock of the situation. Vaguely, Harry could hear Dumbledore summoning the Ministry's Auror division, but he easily turned him out. Even though she clearly wasn't about to answer, Harry continued to talk to her until the Aurors, with Scrimgeour in toe, showed up to police and canvas the place nearly ten minutes later. Harry only noticed others were in the room when it seemed the conversation had directed itself towards their favorite topic: him.

"So, it wasn't the boy to kill You-Know-Who then?" Scrimgeour asked, in his usual postulating voice. When Dumbledore replied and relayed how they had come to find the situation, it seemed as if Scrimgeour seemed to notice the girl. Most of the Aurors were still in the other room, doing a body count, while Kingsley was examining Voldemort's body a few feet from Harry. Hearing footsteps approach him quickly, Harry was prepared for whatever Scrimgeour was about to say to him.

"Who is she?" he demanded, pointing at the girl, who's gaze had remained unfazed the entire time.

"I dunno, sir. She was here when we arrived. I think she's in shock." Harry responded, attempting to reserve the contempt for the Ministry from his voice, and failing miserably.

"Well, thank you for your ever so helpful insight, Mr. Potter." Scrimgeour practically sneered, before turning his attention to the girl.

"Who are you?"

Silence.

"Did you hear me, who are you? As Minister of Magic, I demand to know this instant your name!"

Silence.

"Sir, she's in shock! You can't interrogate her right now!" Harry said, his voice raising as he stood up, blocking the Minister from the girl. "She needs help, not you yelling at her!"

"Do NOT presume to tell me how to do my job, Mr. Potter!" Scrimgeour replied. Noticing the direction things were headed it, Dumbledore knew it was his time to intervene.

"Gentlemen, right now isn't the time for petty disputes. Minister, you need to address the public, tell them what was found here today. I think they would like to know that the Dark Lord is dead, don't you? Also, I believe this girl needs hospital treatment immediately. However, I don't think it would be wise to mention her until we know more about her background." Scowling briefly at being told what to do, Scrimgeour barked an order to Kingsley telling him he was in charge, and left swiftly.

Harry turned his attention back to the girl as medical personnel entered the room, and took her away, her eyes remaining focused straight ahead. He almost asked if he could tag along with her, but caught himself before he had the chance; Voldemort was dead, he didn't need to be worrying about some random girl they found here right now.

Dumbledore talked to Kingsley briefly, before heading over toward Harry, who was staring at the medics as they took the girl away, to a place where they could apparate her to Mungo's safely.

"Harry, I'm going to take you back to the Weasley's now, alright?" The headmaster said softly, taking hold of his arm and steering him toward the door, back through the sea of bodies.

"Why can't I stay here, Professor?" he asked, although he knew it was fruitless; he knew Dumbledore would send him back to the Weasley's house no matter how much he might protest. For some reason though, he didn't feel like protesting much. It have been a few eventful couple of hours, and he really didn't want to be here, among the coppery smell of blood, any more then he had to be. Dumbledore would relay him information anyway. Plus...the Dark Lord was dead.

"Is he...is he really gone, Professor?" Harry asked, look toward the headmaster with innocent eyes of a child. Dumbledore smiled at him slightly.

"Yes, Harry. Yes I believe he is." Smiling softly, Harry barely felt the retching pull of apparation, or the bone-crushing bear he found himself in when he landed in the Weasley's living room.

"He's gone," he said softly, before he felt the world around him go black as his body crumpled to the ground.

--

Enjoying a light breakfast of toast and coffee, Severus Snape casually leaned back in his chair, took bite of toast, and folded his copy of potions weekly to the next page, scoffing slightly as he read the "Fresh New Talent!" section. 'Worthless sods,' he thought to himself.

It was rare for Severus to have any down time, when he wasn't teaching or playing spy for the Order, and valued the time he had greatly. The next Order meeting wasn't for a few days, and he met with the Dark Lord only two days ago, so he was sure to have at least the next couple days to himself, which was a rarity he planned to exploit wholeheartedly.

Finishing his plate, he moved it to the sink, where it proceeded to wash and dry itself, before moving to the cabinet on the left and putting itself away. Severus moved from the kitchen table back to the living room, before sitting in his overstuffed chair by the fire, and continued to read his magazine.

"Severus." Schooling his features to ignore his surprise, Severus dropped his magazine and stared into the eyes of Albus Dumbledore's firecall.

"Albus? What is it, what happened?" He knew the elder wizard would only firecall if it was important, because he understood Severus' need for his precious alone time. Whatever reason he had for interrupting must be important. Sighing internally at the loss of his afternoon, he leaned forward in his chair, his full attention on the Headmaster.

"It has just been confirmed that the Dark Lord has been slain in his manor, along with what the Auror's can assume, the majority of the inner circle."

Pause.

What? Surely he had been mistaken. Surely he had misheard. The shock was evident on his usually impassive face. The embers of the fire danced in slow motion as Severus tried to comprehend the gravity of what he had been told.

"Severus...Severus!" Brought from his daze, he attempted to focus completely on the headmaster, and not his spiraling thoughts.

"Sorry, Albus."

"That's quite alright. I understand this comes as a great shock to you, and I can appreciate that, but there's more. The room Harry and I found Voldemort in, there was a girl. She seems to be in shock, and I was wondering if you could come to the emergency care center at Mungo's and see if maybe you can identify her, since she seems unresponsive to myself and the staff here at Mungo's."

"Of course, Albus. Just give me a moment."

"Oh, take your time, m'boy, there's no rush." And he was gone, the embers returning to normal. Severus knew only to well what women in Voldemort's army had to endure, having been part of a considerable number of "sessions" himself. The fact that she was alive when apparently everyone else on the premises was dead was not a good sigh. He didn't try to kid himself into believing that he was the Dark Lord's favorite by any means, but he did know all the Death Eaters in the inner circle, and a considerable number outside the circle, so he was pretty confident he would know this seemingly random girl.

Taking his usual long strides to his room, Severus pulled out a pair of black slacks and white button down, and proceeded to change out of his black silk night pants and white undershirt. Changing quickly, he donned his traditional black boots, grabbed his casual black cloak, and headed to the fireplace. Taking some floo powder, he stepped in quickly.

"St. Mungo's, emergency care," he said clearly, in an authoritative voice. Within seconds, he was exiting the fireplace and making his way toward the room he saw medi-witches zipping in and out of. His assumption proved correct as he saw Albus standing at the foot of the hospital bed. He noticed him immediately.

"Ah, Severus. I appreciate your promptness. This is her." Severus made his way fully into the room as the last Medi-witch left, with directions to keep quite. Severus looked to the bed, and took in the girl's appearance. Long, dark hair, extremely petite, with bright green eyes, staring blankly at the wall.

"I have no idea who she is, Albus. I apologize," he said, staring at the girl. She was clearly under nourished, but a pretty girl. Severus internally sighed; he knew how much the Dark Lord liked pretty girls.

"That's alright. I just wish I knew who she was, if she has a family." The girl seemed to be blinking a lot since Severus entered, and her eyes widened slightly.

"Are you alright, my dear? Can you tell me your name?" Dumbledore tried, moving towards her slightly at her seeming change in demeanor.

No response.

"Severus, maybe you could try talking to her." Once again, her eyes, which were still staring at the wall, widened slightly. Walking toward the bed, Severus laid his hands to grip the bed ending.

"What is your name?" he asked, in a tone that came out gruffer then he had intended.

At the sound of his voice directed at her, the girl turned her head, wide, innocent eyes locked with his. Moving her hands slowly up toward the top of her overlarge, filthy shirt, she pulled it down to right above her left breast. The word **Raven **was burned into her flesh.

"So, your name is Raven then?" He asked.

No response.

Her wide, almond shaped eyes were nearly boring holes into his, before she slowly removed her hands from her shirt, allowing it back in place, and stared toward the wall again.

"Well, she seems to like you, Severus. She hasn't even acknowledged anyone else's presence since we found her. Even Harry's, and most people seem to open right up to him." Dumbledore said, it what could only be described as an obviously celebratory manner.

"Great," he said sullenly, well away that he was definitely not going to have his few days of peace like he originally hoped.

--

Author's Note- So, here was chapter 2, hope you liked it! Please, if you have the time, I would really appreciate a review. Thank you very much for reading!

Kade


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** No, I do not own the Harry Potter series. Yes, it makes me want to slit my wrists at night.

**Author's Note:** Thank you again, **FromTheLivingRoom**, for reviewing. I really appreciate you taking the time to do so. This is my first story, so any feedback or happy little reviews are really wonderful. Thank you again to all the people who put an Alert out on for this story. I really wish you would review, but I just love the fact that you're reading it! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I hope you have a truly wonderful day!

--

**Chapter Three**

__

'Harry.'

Moving through the manor, Harry felt the blood squish beneath the soles of his shoes as he crossed the room, lazily dripping unceremoniously into his worn sneakers, and becoming absorbed into his socks. His wand held tightly at his side, he looks over his shoulder, to Dumbledore for assurance, only to find the Headmaster is nowhere to be found.

'Harry.'

Spinning in rapid fashion, he realized he was alone, in the sea of blood, and he was scared. Very scared. A gripping fear had worked its way into his chest, almost dragging him down, and causing his breathing to become severely labored. He continued his quest, slower now because breathing had become so difficult. Crossing towards the threshold on the other side for the bloodstained room, Harry paused at the adjoining door briefly, staring at the handle. On the other side of that door...

'Harry. Please help me, Harry.'

Grasping the doorknob in his hand, he cried out as heat seared through his entire body. Letting go of the door, he regained his bearings, before placing his scarred hand back on the door and opening it quickly, so as not to burn himself too much, and slipped inside. He needed to find the voice that was calling him.

Entering the room, he was nearly knocked over by the flames that erupted in front of him. The smell of burning flesh reached his nose, nearly assaulting his senses, and causing sickness to rise once again to his mouth.

'Help me, Harry.'

Turning his head to the far corner, he saw the girl from before, her small hand clawing out to him from across the room.

'Save me, Harry.'

Crossing the room quickly, bypassing the rotting carcass, Harry threw himself down on the ground in front of her.

'We need to get out of here, now, before this whole place burns.' He says to her, reaching for her arm.

Her eyes suddenly turn a clear, translucent blue. 'But he shouldn't be gone. It wasn't his time.'

'Whose time?' Harry found himself asking.

'Death will befall us all.' she said softly, before her eyes returned to normal. She smiled a small smile up at him, before she suddenly burst into flames.

Screaming, Harry nearly launched himself off of the sofa in the Weasley's living room. His heart racing, he noticed somewhat belatedly how Mrs. Weasley had run in when he awoke, and how she was fussing over him. Working to catch his breath, Harry couldn't seem to stop the tremors working through his body, just like he couldn't get the desolate last look of the girl from his head.

"Are you alright, Harry dear? You caused us quite a scare when you fainted like that. But I guess it's to be expected, what with all you've seen this morning. Professor Dumbledore filled us in."

"Where is he?" Harry found himself asking.

"Who, Dumbledore?" Harry nodded in affirmation. "Oh, well the Headmaster has much business to take care of, what with the passing of You-Know-Who." She broke into a smile, and couldn't seem to control herself as she launched at him and encircled him in another bone-crushing hug. Placing a motherly kiss to the top of his head, she rushed into the kitchen to work more on what Harry assumed was breakfast. Rubbing his eyes and stretching, Harry maneuvered himself through the living room and into the kitchen, his dream forgotten as his senses got one whiff of Mrs. Weasley's amazing cooking.

Sitting down at the table, he found his plate becoming piled high with eggs, sausage, bacon, and pancakes, then drenched in syrup. While he was pretty sure Mrs. Weasley knew that there was no way he could possibly eat all of what was on his plate, he humored the woman that had become like a mother to him, and dug in full force, which wasn't hard considering how hungry he was, and how good the food smelled.

Unable to contain himself, Harry's table manners resembled Ron's as he started shoveling food unceremoniously into his mouth. He noticed how Mrs. Weasley seemed happy by this, mumbling under her breath about how she needed to 'put some meat on his bones.' Smiling, Harry slowed his pace enough to actually taste his food, watching Mrs. Weasley bustle around the kitchen. He was brought from his calm reprieve by the sounds of stairs creaking. Turning his head, he noticed the bleary-eyed, half-asleep, red-headed figure of his friend as he blindly made his way over to the kitchen table.

Mrs. Weasley nearly assaulted him, just as she had down to Harry earlier, rapping him in a huge hug, before bursting into tears on his shoulder.

"Nuuhh, what did I miss?" Was his groggy reply, and Harry couldn't contain the urge to laugh.

"Oh nothing Ron, nothing. Just, you know, Voldemort's dead and I didn't have to kill him. So, nothing too important."

--

Allowing the medi-witch to resume her ministrations, Severus followed Dumbledore outside Raven's hospital door, internally sighing at the way things were turning out. Yes, he was ecstatic about the demise of the Dark Lord, but he was thought to be gone before, and that had turned out to be short-lived; there was no proof that the Dark Lord wouldn't be able to return yet again. Until he knew such truths, Severus had no real reason to get particularly excited, or to think that all would be well. As with most things in his life, they typically didn't go as smoothly as he might originally want to hope for.

Feeling the door being closed by one of the three medi-witches who had invaded the room within seconds of Raven's display, Severus couldn't help the sneer that found its way onto his face; 'Stupid wenches.'

"Severus, this is very good. Very good indeed. I was quite surprised myself when there was no response from her when we first found her. Harry must have talked to her for nearly half an hour," Albus said, smiling as one of the medi-witches left the hospital room.

Severus nodded, maintaining to contain the small level of smugness threatening to overtake his features. 'Seems Potter's not perfect after all.'

"Now, Severus, are you sure you don't recognize her? I know you've said you know most of the frequent members in Voldemort's Army, and judging by her obvious long term abuse..."

"I have never seen her before, Albus." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Hadn't he just explained this? "I'm sure I would have remembered her."

"Of course, of course. Just wanted to be thorough." Albus paused as another medi-witch moved from the room. He signaled her over, and she seemed more then happy to comply. Giving Severus a questioning look, she smiled at Albus.

"What can I do for you Headmaster Dumbledore?" She asked, in a voice that, in Severus' opinion, was laced with bullshit.

"I was wondering what you plan to do with young Raven in there." He said, pointing towards her door.

"So, her name's Raven then? Interesting. We weren't quite sure if that burn mark was a message or a sign or whatnot," she said, getting off track as she stared at the door. "Well, we are about to move her into the isolation ward, until we know more about her, that is."

"Thank you, my dear."

The medi-witch beamed at him, and turned to leave, before turning back and adding, "Well, she also had this weird mark on the inside of her right thigh. It kinda looks like a sideways eight," she said. "But we're sure it's nothing. Just a tattoo maybe. Where did you find her anyway, Headmaster?" She asked, before another medi-witch from down the hall called her. "Oh, sorry. I really must be going. Bye bye!" She said, and in a much to cheerful way, practically skipped down the hallway.

"I can't believe someone who has to work with a considerable number of individuals who are cursed doesn't even recognize the infinity symbol." Severus sneered.

"Well, Severus, she might be new working here. She was quite young, maybe this is an internship for her. Not everyone knows that a sideways eight is more commonly known as the symbol for infinity." Dumbledore said, smiling his surly Potions Professor. His face turned serious once again. "There might be more meaning behind that then we know now," he said, moving toward the window to look into Raven's room.

Severus followed suit, standing to the left of the Headmaster. He ventured a glance toward the near lifeless girl laying limp in the bed. As his eyes moved slowly up her body, he couldn't help but notice how similar her body type was to...No, he mustn't think of that.

"I noticed it too," Dumbledore said from his place beside him, almost as if reading his thoughts. "I noticed it too." he said softer, placing his hand against the window. As Severus' eyes made their way from the Headmaster's face to the girl's, his eyes widened slightly as her piercing green eyes locked with his, before he broke contact, and the medi-witches began to move her to her new room in the isolation ward.

--

"I can't believe that while this was happening, no one woke me up!" Ron half-screamed. Harry chuckled at that.

"Somehow I doubt you would have been very receptive, Ron." Harry said, taking another bite of a particularly large piece of sausage. "And besides, what would you have done anyway? It's not like Dumbledore would have let you go with us." On a more serious note, Harry added, "You were better off here, Ron. You really were. All you need to know is that he's gone."

Ron decided for once not to argue. He could tell Harry had left out a lot in his quick description of things, if the look on his face was any indication. "Well, tell me more about this girl then, mate?" he said smiling, as he piled his plate high with twice as much as Harry had.

"I dunno, there was just something about her..." Harry trailed off.

"Does someone have a crush?" Ron said, laughing through a mouth-full of eggs.

Harry laughed. "No! She seemed more sister-like." On a more serious note he added, "The look in her eyes though, Ron. They looked so dead." Harry didn't want to bring up the fact that that was exactly the same expression he wore for nearly 6 months after Sirius death over a year ago. Just thinking about his Godfather made his chest tighten. Though Harry had allowed the Order to keep meeting in Sirius' house, Harry hadn't stepped foot in the place since Sirius' passing. He felt guilty about not visiting Remus, considering he was his only connection to his parents, but Harry just couldn't brig himself to pop by. Even though all the ownership of Sirius' belongings passed to Harry, Harry was well away of Sirius and Remus' relationship, although not many were, and would never think to throw the older man out of the house. How Remus could live there with all the memories was beyond him. Then again, Remus did have experience with that sort of thing.

Blinking back unwanted memories, Harry tried to focus in on Ron's conversation, but tuned it out when he realized his friend was talking to Mrs. Weasley. He felt as though the severity of the situation was lost on him. Even though he knew he should be celebrating, he just couldn't stop thinking about the girl.

'I wonder what her name is,' He thought to himself, before taking another bite of his eggs. He could just ask Dumbledore later.

--

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Harry. Ron contacted Hermione and filled her in. She would have left right away, but she was vacationing with her parents, and had managed to convince herself to stay until the end of their vacationing in another 4 days. There were people constantly coming in and out of the Weasley Home, but Harry didn't really realize it. After breakfast, he asked Mrs. Weasley if he could go back to sleep, and she readily agreed, promising to get him up before dinner.

Harry however, had absolutely no intention of sleeping, not that he could if he tried. His mind was still working to process everything that had happened in just a few hours. Sitting on his bed by the window, he stared out, looking toward the sky. It was a warm, sunny day, with just a minute amount of cloud cover, and Harry couldn't help but notice that it was great Quiddich weather. Opening the window and freeing Hedwig from her cage, Harry was surprised when the snowy owl opted for sitting in his lap and letting him pet her. Staring out into the wide open abyss, Harry couldn't help but allow his mind to wander.

He stayed stationary for the remainder of the day, lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to the celebrations carrying on downstairs. Casual people coming and going had turned into somewhat of a party, in celebration of the second liberation from the Dark Lord. He knew no one would bother him because Mrs. Weasley would never allow them to; he was 'sleeping'. Smiling softly, he allowed his mind to remain in a meditative state. He new he would probably have to go down and see people at some point, but decided not to dwell on it too much. People had no reason to see him; he wasn't the savior anymore.

He wasn't the savior anymore.

His life was officially his own. No longer would his actions need to be dictated by others. He wouldn't be a slave to the Wizarding World any longer... A soft smile made its way onto his face as he rested his head against the window, a feeling of contentment overwhelming him.

--

Apparating to the Weasley house, Dumbledore and Severus were unsurprised to find so many others there already. Albus made his way into the kitchen with Severus close at his heels; he did NOT want to be left alone with these people any more then he had to be. Severus wasn't stupid to believe he was an accepted member within the Order. Without Albus to constantly reassure the Order of his allegiances, they probably would have found a way to send him to Azkaban by now.

Looking around, he noticed Potter was nowhere to be seen, not that that was a surprise. Severus imaged the boy should be overjoyed; he had no chance of defeating the Dark Lord on his own, and now he didn't have to fight at all. Must be such a relief. Attempting to at least appear cordial, Severus resisted the urge to sneer and continued behind Albus as he approached Molly.

"Molly, dear, do you know where I can find Harry by any chance?" Albus asked her.

"Albus!" she practically screeched, swirling around in rapid fashion to greet the elder wizard. "Severus!" She said, acknowledging him a lot more cordially then most members of the Order typically would. "Harry's resting. He asked to go back to bed after he had breakfast, and he's been up there ever since. Poor dear was just so exhausted, and with good reason. Honestly, the things that boy has seen..." she fell off, before catching herself. "Oh, where are my manners! Can I get you both anything?"

Severus shook his head with a curt nod in the negative, and Dumbledore accepted a glass of punch.

"Do you think it would be alright if I talked to Harry?"

"Oh, of course Albus! All this morning he was talking about that girl you both found. Is she going to be alright?" Molly asked, her face betraying her worry.

"Yes, she's going to be fine." Albus said offhandedly.

"I'll go get him right now." Molly said, before abandoning her apron and moving up the stairs to her youngest son's bedroom. She knocked on the door lightly three times.

"Harry, dear, I'm coming in now," she said, before opening the door.

The knocking jutted Harry from his trance, and Hedwig quickly took flight out the window just as Mrs. Weasley entered the room.

"Oh, you're up. Well, that's just as well. Professor Dumbledore would like to speak with you, if that's alright." Molly chose not to acknowledge that the bed covers hadn't been turned down, or that Harry looked more tired now then he did early. Smiling softly at his attempt to look like he had just woken up, Molly entered the room, shutting the door behind her.

"There are a lot of people downstairs, Harry. If you're not up to anyone, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore would understand and come back later," she said, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

"Oh, it's no problem, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, just barely catching himself from yawning. Maybe he should have tried to sleep after all...

"He did say however that the girl from before is going to be ok." she said. Harry's eyes widened at this.

"How is she? Who is she? How long was she there? Has she spoken yet?" Harry continued firing off questions until Mrs. Weasley interrupted him.

"Harry, Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape are downstairs right now, you can ask them now, if you'd like."

"What is Snape doing here?" Harry could help blurting out.

"That's Professor Snape, Harry." Molly admonished slightly. Harry had the good grace to blush.

"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley."

"That's quite alright, dear," She said. "Would you like to see them now?"

Harry practically jumped from the bed and straightened out his clothes. "I'm ready."

Molly smiled. "They're in the kitchen." She said simply, and Harry was out the door.

Molly sighed softly. Even when he was free, Harry was still worrying wholeheartedly about others. He was such a good boy.

Harry practically raced down the stairs, reaching the bottom in rapid time. Ignoring the few people who acknowledged him, he quickly scanned the kitchen for Dumbledore. Upon finding him, he cut through Kingsley Shacklebot and Nymphadora Tonks, before shooting over towards the Headmaster and his Potions Professor.

"Ah, Harry, m'boy."

"Mrs. Weasley said you said that the girl is going to be alright." Harry said, cutting pleasantries short, and not bothering to acknowledge Snape. It was well know they didn't have to best of relationships.

"Calm down, Harry. Her name is Raven, and from what the staff at Mungo's tell me, she is going to be just fine. All of her broken bones and structural damage was fixed upon arrival. They are holding her in isolation until we know more about her." Dumbledore said, smiling lightly at him.

"How do you know her name is Raven?" Harry asked. He was genuinely curious; had she talked, or written, or what?

"She had burns on her front torso that spelled out Raven." Harry shivered lightly in response, before his eyes widened.

"Well, how do you know that doesn't mean something else. I mean, why would someone burn their name into their chest?"

"Well Harry, Professor Snape asked her what her name was, and she revealed her burn. This lead me to believe it is what she is called by, does it not?" the Headmaster asked, noticing how Harry expression switched over to light shock as he turned his attention to Snape.

"She responded to you? Why?" he asked, clearly in disbelief. The girl, Raven, hasn't so much as acknowledged his existence in nearly half an hour. His face twisted in thought, before he knowingly looked at Severus.

"She must know you then." he said simply.

"I've never seen the girl in my life, Mr. Potter." Snape sneered. Honestly, he was such a stupid child.

"I'm not saying you know her, I'm saying she knows you, Professor," Harry said curtly, before turning his attention back toward Dumbledore, not catching Snape's blank, thoughtful look.

"I know this will sound crazy Professor, but I feel connected to her somehow. She just seems so familiar to me. I was wondering if maybe I could visit her in the isolation ward?" Harry asked, breaking his gaze from the Headmaster and staring at his shoes with new bred fascination.

"I think that would be a lovely idea, Harry. I was planning on returning tomorrow afternoon, after the public announcement is made. I would be happy to bring you along." he said. Harry's eyes lit up.

"Really?" he asked.

"Of course. Now, Professor Snape will be there as well, but I hope you both can get past your petty differences, at least for an afternoon. Harry nodded in earnest. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Um, Professor?" Harry asked, looking at his feet again before moving his gaze up to the Headmasters face. "I don't think you should tell the media yet about Raven," he said.

"Why not, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. He wasn't planning on filling the media in on that, or the general public, but he was curious as to why Harry didn't want him to.

"Because she seems very fragile. They would crucify her. I know firsthand how awful the media can be." Harry said softly, his attention fixed to the clock behind Dumbledore's head.

"I won't tell them, Harry." The Headmaster replied gently, before placing a hand on the young man's shoulder. "You should probably go off and find something for dinner before Mrs. Weasley fixes you something. You know her portions tend to be a little out of control," Dumbledore said smiling.

"Thanks, Professor." Harry said, beaming at the older wizard.

As he was turning to leave, Dumbledore called out, "I'll be here by 2:00."

"Gotcha!" Harry said, before walking off to the food table, smiling brightly.

--

**Next Chapter:** Harry, Dumbledore, and Severus got to see Raven in the hospital. Chaos ensues.

**Author's Note:** Please, if you have the time, I would really appreciate a review. I won't demand them, but I would really appreciate them. Thank you so much for reading. I should have an update up in a few days.

**o0oKadeo0o**


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